Instead, he started talking.
He told a story about a man with excessive power who’d committed horrible atrocities in his youth and was owned by the High Court as a result. He told me about how he’d been forced to conceive me with Mother. How he was trapped and had no choices.
He said he’d thought I was better off with her.
He said he’d thought I was safe.
He said a lot of things.
Finally, he pointed to his missing eye, then pointed to mine, the one that had a little more gray in it than the other.
He explained how he’d pulled it out of his eye socket for me, then he’d slashed his own face.
He was the reason I had two eyes.
The reason I could see.
My shivering intensified, and ice crawled up the outside of my throat.
I was numb all over.
I felt as if I hovered outside my body and watched him talking to me from a faraway vantage point.
Finally, he finished his heart-wrenching tale.
We stood in more uncomfortable silence.
I pulled my pipe from my pocket and inhaled enchanted smoke.
The room was freezing, and our breath puffed in frosty clouds between us.
I realized it was my turn.
Lothaire waited.
Silently.
Calmly.
With unfeeling lips, I began to talk.
I told him about the nightly tortures and the constant beatings, the harsh tutors, and even harsher guards.
The air was suddenly too thin, and it was hard to breathe.
Between shaky gasps, I told him the things Mother used to say to me. The things she’d done.
The many nights I lay sprawled across the floor on fire, screaming while I prayed someone would save me.
How no one had.
The days I was barely able to endure because I’d been so terrified about what was to come later. Anticipation eating at my stomach until I was physically sick.
When I was done speaking, Lothaire’s tanned skin was a sickly shade of pale.
He stared at me like he’d never seen me.
Then his face crumpled, and he staggered backward with a wail. His back hit the wall, and he cradled his head in his hands as he let loose an unholy sound. Sparks of power popped in the air around him.
He was a broken man.
Shattered.
Thank the sun god I didn’t tell him about the slur on my back.
“But it’s over now,” I said, my voice hoarse as I inhaled smoke like it could save me.
He dropped his hands and stared at me, an unfamiliar expression on his face. “How can you say that to me? How are you standing here?” He inhaled shakily. “How are you functioning—I’ve failed you.”
I tried to smile sheepishly, but my face muscles weren’t working.
I shrugged.
“Describe functioning?” I asked with a weak chuckle, then sucked in enchanted smoke until my lungs burned.
The joke fell flat.
Awkward.
He stood up straight abruptly and searched through his desk until he pulled out an RJE device.
I waited for him to explain, but he said nothing.
Instead, he walked forward until we stood about an arm’s distance apart. “Can I—hug you?” he asked softly.
I grimaced. “Sure?”
The towering vampyre enveloped me in a tight hug. Tentatively, I brought my arm up and patted his freakishly muscled back.
“It means nothing,” he whispered, “but I’m so sorry. I thought because of my agreement with the High Court that you’d be protected—I thought you’d be safe.”
He squeezed me tighter.
“Well, I’m alive,” I whispered. “I’m fine now.” The lie tasted sour on my tongue.
“After the war—we’ll talk more,” Lothaire said. “For now, you need to concentrate.”
The war.
Queasiness returned at the reminder of what we were heading into.
He must have felt me stiffen, because he pulled back and patted the top of my head fondly.
His tone was serious as he said, “One thing you’ll never be is weak. You’re more capable than you give yourself credit for. The war will be easy for you—it’s the weaker soldiers who should be afraid. Not you—not my daughter.”
I winced.
He doesn’t know I can’t fly or wield an ice sword. He leveled cities, but I can’t even control a little ice.
Lothaire shook his head like he could read my mind as he reached forward and squeezed my shoulders. “I promise, you are more powerful than you can even imagine. Remember, I’ve tasted your blood when I tested you for Elite Academy—I know these things.”
I shrugged with embarrassment.
Parents were supposed to tell their children lies to make them feel better. It was my first time experiencing it, and it was strange.
“Okay,” I said as I rubbed the back of my neck and stared down at the ice-covered floor.
Lothaire tipped my chin up and bared his canines as he grinned. “Don’t fret, war can be fun.”
There it was.
For a second, I’d forgotten he was certifiable.
“For sure,” I said sarcastically as I rubbed at my face.
He ruffled my blue curls and spun the RJE device in his hand. “I heard through the academy grapevine that Ghost wanted to say goodbye to you.” He frowned. “I have no idea why that sadistic poltergeist librarian would want to—”
I cut him off and clutched at my heart. “Aw, how sweet of him.”
It was Lothaire’s turn to look at me like I was crazy.
I shrugged as I smoked. “We have a bond.”
“You know he’s murdered thousands of people, right?” he asked with confusion. “And he tortures students for fun?”
I rolled my eyes. “He’s chill. It’s not that serious.”
Lothaire muttered something about daughters under his breath, then leaned forward and pulled me into another hug.
Finally, he backed away. “I need to give something to Corvus. Don’t take too long saying goodbye. We leave soon for the war camp.”
I exhaled heavily. “I know.”
A few minutes later, I sat in the library with my pipe held out while Ghost, the unfriendly poltergeist and inspirational figure in my life, sucked on the enchanted smoke. Orion stared at me with wide, unblinking eyes.
The stained-glass windows of Elite Academy glimmered as they filtered dark blood-soaked light, and the air was rich with the musty scent of books. Students sat at tables studying, and lightning crackled in the halls.
There was a loud cough at one of the tables in the back.
Ghost tipped an invisible hat to me, then he floated away to put the criminal into a coma for violating the sanctity of the library.
I looked after his retreating figure fondly.
I’d miss him.
I curled my fingers around my pipe as trepidation mingled with anxiety.
It wasn’t until we were leaving the library that I realized I’d forgotten to ask Lothaire what he had to give to Corvus.
Chapter 2
Aran
DARK REVELATIONS
Lugubrious (adjective): dismal.
“On the Creature Classification Scale—a one-to-five ranking system, with five being the danger level of certain gods—the ungodly are ranked a four,” Dick said harshly, his expression bleak.
My ears echoed with the phantom screams of the dying and ripping flesh, and I shuddered.
What kind of monster would a five look like?